A Major Adventure
by littlemisslibrarian
Summary: Major Monogram is the great leader of an elite animal spy force. But all great people have to start somewhere. Here you will read about Major Monogram's humble beginnings as a student at the Academy, and how he discovered hidden strengths along the way.
1. Chapter 1

"But I don't want to go to the academy, Daddy," I pleaded for the fiftieth time to my father as we walked to the bus stop. His bushy beard and mustache concealed a stern frown. My mother, a twig in comparison to my father's tree-trunk body, looked at me sympathetically. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by my father.

"I'm not your father, and it's been decided," he said as the rusty green bus squeaked to a stop. I struggled to drag my bag up the stairs.

"I love you, Daddy," I said as the doors closed. I staggered awkwardly to an empty seat. My father was disappointed in me, so he was sending me to a spy camp, hoping that I'd toughen up. I looked at my arms, which were so thin they were a step away from being a skeleton. _Maybe he's right._

I was pretty numb because of this whole academy thing. I shifted the heavy suitcase off of my lap when my legs fell asleep. The person in the seat across from me noticed my name tag.

"Leslie Monogram? What, you going in place of your sister?" The boy was almost as tough-looking as my father, with a mean glint in his eye.

"No, actually, I'm Leslie," I said awkwardly, pushing my thick glasses up my nose.

"Wow, your parents must hate you!"

Before I could respond, someone threw a paper ball at the bully. I left him to yell out swear words, most of which I didn't know. Some of the numbness I mentioned before was starting to wear off, and I replayed the last conversation with my father in my mind.

_I'm not your father, and it's been decided… _

NOT MY FATHER! I was adopted! I wished there was some way to contact my parents, but the nearest phone was at the academy. And of course I couldn't use a phone without wires! This was 1960, not 3000! The realization that I was adopted caused the fine hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. It felt like my shaggy blonde hair on the top of my head was doing the same. That would explain why my father didn't take as much interest in me. I would rather read a novel than a football playbook.

In fact, I managed to sneak my favorite one into my suitcase. The extra weight was worth it. I pulled out _1984._ I had just got it a week ago, and had already read it cover to cover. It was one of the most recent books in my personal library, just released this year. Oh, how I loved the smell of new pages! And yes, they do have a distinctive smell.

All too soon, the bus screeched to a halt in the driveway of the spy academy. I groaned as I dragged my suitcase off the bus. I was quickly pushed down by the rest of the kids. As I cleared the mud from my glasses, I saw a boy extending his hand to me to help me up. I took it and managed to haul myself out of the mud. I grabbed my suitcase.

"Thanks. Nobody else seems to know I exist. I'm a bit of a poindexter." I laughed awkwardly. I do everything awkwardly.

"Well I'm a hippie! I wish people didn't know who I was, so I wouldn't be hated."

"I guess we're even," I said to my new aquaintance. I noticed for the first time that he had a mullet, and a tie-dye shirt.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: I know Monogram's first name is Francis. I didn't know that before. So he is going to legally change his name later on.

I lugged my suitcase to my room, which I had to share with the same guy who made fun of my name before. _Well this just keeps getting better and better,_ I thought. After placing my book on the desk and sliding the suitcase under my primitive cot, I lay down. Then I instantly jumped back up when something sharp poked me in the back. A spring was poking through the threadbare fabric. I lay down again, this time on the edge of the bed. That turned out to be a bad idea, since a man wearing black clothes came in and barked at us to wake up. This startled me, and I fell to the floor. Like I said, I do everything awkwardly.

It was dinnertime, so I followed my fellow students to the cafeteria. When I sat down at the only unoccupied table, I thought I saw a part of my slop dinner move. I moved the offending piece out of the way with my fork, then held my nose as I ate the gray mush. I could barely get past the smell. The bench creaked next to me, and I saw the hippie that helped me earlier out of the corner of my eye.

"Hi," I said politely.

"Hello. Somebody told me that your name was Leslie?"

"Who told you," I exclaimed. I was going to tell everyone my name was Brick.

"A big guy with a crew cut."

"Ah. He's my roommate. That makes sense," I grumbled.

"That stinks," the hippie sympathized. "My name is Noah. Pretty average, but a lot of people tease me with ark jokes."

"If-when-I change my name, I'll change it to either Brick or Francis," I announced.

"Why do you like those names?"

"Brick sounds tough, and Francis means 'from France,' or 'free.'" I explained. Seeing Noah's confused expression, I added, "I'm part French."

Before I knew it, dinner was over. It was time for our evening hike. _Hiking doesn't sound too bad. I like nature, and especially animals, _I thought. Then an instructor ordered us all to stand in a straight line.

"This ain't going to be no prissy walk through the park. This hike will test your strength and stamina. We will be traveling over the toughest terrain in the country. You will encounter rocks, cliffs, mud, grime, tree roots, and the Turtle River! All you sissies might want to say your prayers!"

I folded my hands, and the instructor chuckled. "Fitness is a very important part of being a secret agent! You need to do a lot of physical activity!" I was hyperventilating before we even set off.

The first part of the hike was through a forest where the tree roots reached out trip you. I looked down so I could watch my step, since the people in front of me made it hard to look ahead. The instructor closest to me noticed this and yelled at me to keep my head up. I decided it was best to obey, and I pretended not to care when I fell three times. And this wasn't even the worst part of the trail…


	3. Chapter 3

I huffed and puffed over countless boulders, some crumbling under my feet. At one point I slid down the side and scraped up my hands pretty badly. But I had to continue. Sweat from my palms got into my cuts and made them sting even more. Then we had to use pre-installed ropes to climb a cliff. I was at the end of my metaphorical rope! And guess what? It STILL wasn't over!

Next we had to crawl through mud. It felt weird being caked in dirt from head to toe. Luckily, next was Turtle River. It sounded peaceful, like the burbling creek next to my house. I played there all the time, though it was mostly investigating the fauna.

But this river was definitely not a creek!

A twig fell into the current, and it was swept away in the blink of an eye. I tugged on the sleeve of the instructor.

"Why is it called Turtle River if it's so fast," I asked quietly.

"Thanks for reminding me, Leslie. Class, this river is called Turtle River because of the snapping turtles. They're nasty things that could bite off your toes if you're not careful.

_Of course, _I thought. _Just my luck. _

I waded through Turtle River until the water was waist deep. Then there was a sudden dip in the ground, and I was swept off my feet. I managed to float, but I was heading for rapids. A snapping turtle grabbed my sleeve and left me dangling over the edge of a waterfall. A stick poked me in the stomach. I giggled (darn ticklishness). Then I noticed who was holding onto the other end of the stick. It was Noah. I grabbed the stick and pulled myself toward shore, snapping turtle in tow. The instructor was running up to us.

"What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I guess. How do you get this thing off of me," I said, holding up my arm. The snapping turtle was scrabbling at the air with its stumpy legs. The instructor blew air into its face, which caused it to open its mouth. It splashed into the river and swam away. It was kinda cute when it wasn't trying to turn me into a snack.

"Thanks for saving me back there, I said to Noah as we headed back to the crossing point. It was then that I noticed some half-submerged rocks that I could have hopped over. I pointed it out to Noah.

"Good observation," the instructor said. I delicately hopped from one rock to another, holding my breath as if the tiniest movement would throw me off balance. The impatient class was waiting on the other side.

"I guess being a ballerina has its benefits," one kid commented.

"Thanks…I think."


	4. Chapter 4

That night, I slept like a log. The beds were a lot more comfortable after a day of almost never sitting. But we had to get up at 5 for a lesson in disguises. We shuffled to the classroom like zombies. The teacher was dressed as a hobo. When we were all inside he took off his blonde wig and scarred mask to reveal a middle-aged man with black hair.

"A hobo is an excellent disguise for cities because nobody pays any attention to them. But knowing how to put the disguise together is as important as knowing what disguise to do. Now, does anyone know what error I made?"

"The mask was obvious," I said.

"Thank you Leslie."

A spitball hit me on the back of the neck as a voice whispered, "Teacher's pet." Various animal noises sounded throughout the room. But I noticed that one girl did not join the teasing.

"Well being a pet is better than being a _pest,_" she said while giving the rest of the class a death glare. The class responded with a chorus of "Oooohhhh"s. _Thank you,_ I mouthed to her. She laughed quietly, her red curls bouncing.

"Well, as I was saying, makeup is a better option. Unless you will be on assignments in the rain or underwater, for obvious reasons," the teacher said. He droned on about various makeup effects. After an hour, it was time for breakfast. Finally, I could wake up!

When I got to the cafeteria, I was the last one there. People kept shoving me to the back of the line. So I got the last of the lukewarm scrambled eggs, orange juice, and limp asparagus. Who eats asparagus for breakfast anyway? As I was walking to my table, a teacher in a hurry crossed my path. I didn't notice him until it was too late, and he was wearing my breakfast. I heard snickering from every table and some students took pictures. How they managed to sneak cameras into the cafeteria I do not know.

"Leslie, one of the most important skills of a secret agent is to be very observant," the teacher said I laughed awkwardly and hurried to my seat. Have I had worse days? Probably not. But the experience and the teacher's comment did stick in my memory and I made it a goal to notice my surroundings. This helped me avoid many pranks. During my first two weeks at the Academy, I also noticed that my arms were looking less lanky. I actually did a chin-up! And I became friends with the girl I met in class. Her name was Annie Anagram. It turned out that she also knew Noah. We became a trio.

On Monday of the third week, the headmaster announced that clubs would start meeting soon. Everyone crowded around the list. I stood on tiptoe to see.

_Drama Club. Basketball. Track. Wrestling. Football. Photography. Book Club. Chess Club. Glee Club._

I signed up for Book Club and Drama. They had very few members, of course. Annie was in Drama Club and Track. Noah was in Photography and Chess Club. Drama Club met tomorrow.

The next day, after school and before dinner, I went to the theater. We were doing a version of the play "Peter Pan." The teacher, Mrs. Blackwell, said that auditions were next week. We worked on flyers. Very boring. I know that you're probably sleeping just reading this.

I studied my lines every chance I had. I studied so much that I had the irresistible urge to sing. Finally, it was time for the audition. I was trying out for the part of Peter.

"Um, isn't Peter usually played by a girl," Annie questioned as we were standing in line

"He is? But he's a male character! You could have told me earlier," I exclaimed.

Before Annie could respond the teacher said, "Next!" It was my turn.

Mrs. Blackwell told me to sing, "We Can Fly!"

"Excuse me, ma'am, but did you say sing?" I asked, sweat beading on my forehead.

"Yes. It's a musical."

"Guess I didn't get the memo."

"I told you before. Now please sing."

"Think of a wonderful thought

Any merry little thought

Think of Christmas, think of snow

Think of sleigh bells- off you go!

Like reindeer in the sky

You can fly! You can fly! You can fly!" I belted out. My voice sounded like someone stepping on a kitten's tail. It was squeaky and off key. Half the class covered their ears and Mrs. Blackwell's glasses broke from the high-pitched sound. My face turned bright red, and it only turned redder when she announced that I got the part.

"Why," I asked. The class agreed.

"Because you're the only one who tried out for the part, unfortunately."

The class groaned. The next day, I reported to the theater for singing lessons.


	5. Chapter 5

I was sick of being bullied after a month. I dreaded going to class every day and getting beat up and teased. It got to the point where I could either: run away, call my parents, or do something. Obviously, I did something. But it wasn't planned.

A girl lost her valuable necklace and told the headmaster. She had said she had it until study hall, when she noticed it was gone. Someone stole it. So the headmaster demanded a locker check. We all lined up outside our lockers in the long hallway. The janitor opened each locker and rummaged through its contents while the headmaster slowly walked behind him, his hands clasped behind his back. When they reached Noah's locker, the janitor pulled out the diamond necklace. Noah gasped. He of all people would never steal anything!

"I didn't steal it! I was framed," he shouted. When I saw the necklace, I remembered seeing it sticking out of the pocket of a slouchy kid with very messy brown hair and a thick Druselstenian accent. I know him because he was one of the biggest bullies in school

"Doofenshmirtz took it," I shouted. Doofenshmirtz was slipping away as I was speaking. I ran up to him and stopped him. The headmaster and janitor scowled at him.

"Heinz Doofenshmirtz. Do you know anything about this necklace," the headmaster asked.

"Of course not! My hands are clean," he screeched.

"I saw him take the necklace," I protested.

"You must have mistaken me for someone else, idiot!" This was going nowhere. I was getting very frustrated. How would a real spy deal with this situation?

"You said your hands were clean. That doesn't mean you won't leave fingerprints," I said suddenly. I still had the fingerprint powder from the forensics test. I ran back to my locker and grabbed it. I dusted the large diamond with the soft brush and black powder. The headmaster pulled the fingerprint index out of his always-present briefcase. We each had to record our fingerprints in the book when we enrolled (or were enrolled against our will *coughdadcough*). He compared the two fingerprints. Sure enough, it was a match.

"You've caused trouble in this academy too many times," the headmaster said to Heinz. "You're expelled. Pack your bags and I'll call your parents!"

"Curse you Leslie Monogram," he shouted as he stomped to his room. "One day I'll take over the world and you'll be sorry!"

With the worst bully in school gone, the school was less menacing as the rest of the bullies had no leader. But there were still evil teachers and grueling military training to deal with. And with the school play looming closer and closer, my stresses were far from over. But things were starting to look up. I made more friends, though Noah and Annie were still my best friends. The headmaster told me that when I graduated from the Academy they would love to have me on board at the O.W.C.A.


	6. Chapter 6

The day of the play came at last. I was sweating and shaking even before the curtains came up. When they did come up and it was time for me to say my line, I walked up to my place at the front of the stage.

"Um, I, Um, Uh…" I choked out

"Boo! You stink!"

"Get off the stage!"

Hisses and boos echoed throughout the theater. My knees grew wobbly and I fainted off the stage. I came to when I hit the ground hard. _That does it. I'm changing my name!_

The nurse ran up to me and gave me an ice pack for my head.

"What is 2 plus 2," she asked.

"Why did you ask me that?" I responded.

"To see if you have a concussion. What is your name?"

"Francis Monogram."

"The nearest hospital is ten miles down the road. Take him there at once!"

I didn't know why I said Francis. I tried to tell everyone that I was okay but they didn't listen. After extensive mental tests at the hospital I was found to be mentally stable and not brain damaged.

"Why did you call yourself Francis," the headmaster asked as we were heading back to school.

"I was thinking about how sick I was of everyone calling me Leslie when she asked me my name."

"Sounds reasonable. So,_ Francis,_ are you glad your time at the Academy is almost over?"

"Yes! I can't wait to get away from those bullies!"

Finally, graduation day arrived. I waited impatiently for the headmaster to call my name. He went alphabetically by last name. It was at least twenty minutes until it was my turn, even though it was a small class. The teacher liked to congratulate each student on their achievements and give comments and advice. When he said "Francis Monogram" (the name kinda stuck), I strode proudly across the stage where I had nearly died from embarrassment a month ago.

"You will help maintain agents' gadgets for now, but you can work your way up. I see great things in your future. Just don't be afraid to think outside the box," the headmaster said. He handed me my diploma. My life as a wimpy Academy student was over, and my days as an agent were just beginning. But everyone has to start somewhere, don't they?


	7. Chapter 7

It was 50 years since my graduation. I was at the Academy reunion. The school was decorated with old yearbook photos and relics from our days here. I had recently become a major, and I was in charge of an elite force of animal spies. Although I didn't know why animals were chosen, I was very proud of my agents so far. Noah was a hippie who lived near the old, abandoned Old Abandoned Amusement Park. Annie was my wife of 40 years. While Annie and Noah's wife (Laura) chatted about how cheesy their yearbook photos looked, Noah introduced me to his son.

"This is Carl. He wants to join the O.W.C.A. I told him about you, and he wanted to be your intern."

Carl grinned at me, his freckles and red hair standing out against his pale skin. His purple glasses slid down his nose. Something about him reminded me of…me. And something told me this kid would be a great agent one day.

"Welcome to O.W.C.A., Carl," I said warmly, shaking his hand.


End file.
